


Mason and Gray, Investigators: A Very Rodowsky Christmas

by okiebeebrarian



Series: Mason and Gray, Investigators [2]
Category: Baby-Sitters Club - Ann M. Martin
Genre: Baby-Sitters Club Club
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:54:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28132005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okiebeebrarian/pseuds/okiebeebrarian
Summary: It's Christmastime in Stoneybrook, and the team at Mason and Gray are gearing up for a holiday. But when Jack Rodowsky needs help identifying and tracking down his stalker, Alan Gray, Marguerite "Cokie" Mason, and Karen Brewer must gear up to track down the culprit. When a massive snowstorm hits town, Karen and Jack are stuck at the Mason-Gray house for the holiday - and with a stalker on the loose, the weather outside isn't the only thing that's frightful.
Series: Mason and Gray, Investigators [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2060916
Comments: 6
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

*Alan*

Say what you want about Stoneybrook, Connecticut (and I’ve said lots about it), the town sure does know how to do the holidays.

Mid-November, city crews start stringing lights basically everywhere. Up streetlight posts, across Main Street, around every gazebo in every park - if it sits still, it gets lights. Wreaths are hung on every light post. Christmas music plays from speakers downtown.

If you hate Christmas, Stoneybrook isn’t the place for you.

I love Christmas and I love Stoneybrook, so it works out for me.

It was the Tuesday before Christmas, and I was gathering up my things to head home. My wife and business partner - the Mason to my Gray - had taken the day off to do Christmasy things. Our assistant, Karen, was in the outer office of our building. Karen’s one concession to Christmas was that she complimented her all-black outfit with a black Santa hat. I’m basically a fashion idiot, but at least to my eye it kinda worked. 

I had just slipped my laptop and a few file folders into my briefcase to take home when I heard the front door open and close. I grabbed the briefcase and headed out to back up Karen. Before I even made it to the door, though, I heard her exclaim with joy.

“Oh my gosh, Jack Rodowsky! Is that you?”

I entered the room to see Karen jump up and hug the young man who had just come into the office. He was tall, with incredibly red hair and a few freckles. He looked surprised (but not unhappy) by Karen’s greeting.

She released him and stepped back. “I haven’t seen you in ages! What are you doing back in Stoneybrook?”

“Oh, I came for a long weekend - Nicky Pike’s bachelor party was last weekend, and I stayed over a few days with him. I’m driving back down to my parents’ tomorrow. What are you up to?”

“Working! I’m working as a receptionist here, but I’m trying to talk my bosses into taking me on to train as a PI. Speaking of which, this is Mr. Alan Gray - do you remember Alan?”

The young man reached out to shake my hand. “I remember the name; I think you were a few years ahead of me in school. Nice to meet you; I’m Jack Rodowsky.”

I shook his hand. “Good to me you, too. What can we help you with?”

He looked slightly embarrassed. “Well, it’s a weird situation, but Nicky’s sister suggested I come and talk with you and your wife about it. I guess she knows your wife somehow?”

I nodded. “Yeah; they have become friends through some of the other women we graduated with. Mallory’s great.”

He smiled. “She is. Anyway, she suggested I talk with you. The thing is, I have a stalker. Kind of. I guess. It’s weird. It’s not like they’re physically stalking me or anything, at least not that I know of, but they’re maybe Internet stalking me? But recently it’s picked up and now it’s becoming pictures of me that I get emailed or texted. It’s freaking me out, but since there haven’t been any actual threats and since I have no idea who it is, I don’t really feel like it’s something I can go to the cops about. You know?”

“I can understand that. So would you like us to look into it for you some?”

“If you could. Again, I’m not so much frightened as freaked out. Can I just forward the emails and texts to you? Will that work?”

“For a start, at least. Karen can print up the paperwork for you.”

Karen shot me a look. Despite being several years younger than Mitzi and me, she had become something of a mother hen over the past few months of working with us. “It’s Tuesday, Mr. Gray. Aren’t you running late?”

I smiled at her. “Yes, mother Karen. I’m heading out now. You can help Jack with the paperwork and lock up here?”

“Of course.”

“Thanks.” Shaking Jack’s hand again, I grabbed my briefcase and headed out.

Tuesday night dinner is sacred in my marriage. Most nights, we have no idea what the evening will hold, and dinner is frequently rushed or skipped. But Mitzi (really Marguerite, but I shortened it to Mitzi when we were dating, so I’d feel less like I was dating a French silent film star) and I agreed early on in our marriage that one day a week, we would sit down like adults who have their lives together. Tuesdays fit the schedule the first month, and then it stuck.

The snow that had been coming down all day picked up as I drove back to our house. We were under a winter storm warning, and it was looking like things might get a little dicey. My parents were supposed to be flying in from Florida the next day; I made a mental note to check on their flight status when I had a chance.

Walking into our kitchen was like walking into a combination of a winter wonderland and a bakery. Bakery because it smelled amazing and there were already two kinds of cookies and at least two loaves of bread on cooling racks. Winter wonderland because there was flour literally everywhere. Mitzi’s a good cook and a great baker, but the kitchen does sometimes end up looking like a war zone when she’s in a baking mood.

“Hey, hon! Welcome home.” She smiled at me from the stove, where she was stirring a pot of chili. “It’s really snowing out there, huh?”

I crossed the kitchen to kiss her. “Yeah. I need to check Mom and Dad’s flight status - the weather report isn’t looking great.”

She frowned. “I know. Your mom texted earlier saying it was still on at that time, but she’s worried about it being cancelled.”

My parents both retired five years ago and moved to Florida. This was supposed to be their first Christmas back in Connecticut, and the first time we were hosting the holiday. We’d worked on getting a guest room cleaned out and set up (it’s normal to leave boxes unpacked in a spare room for years after moving into a house, right?) and had a refrigerator literally packed with food ready to be made into a fabulous Christmas spread. We were determined to make this an amazing Christmas and hopefully convince my parents to make this a yearly tradition.

I squeezed Mitzi lightly. “I’ll check in with them. Are these cookies eatable?”

“They should be cool enough now - that top rack came out a few minutes ago and should be pretty perfectly warm.”

I snagged a cookie on my way to drop off my briefcase in the living room. “Yep. Perfect.”

Have I mentioned that I love Christmas?


	2. Chapter 2

*Alan*

Dinner was delicious, as always. I was hauling a few loads of wood up to the porch in preparation of lots of fires in the fireplace over the next few days when my phone rang. I dropped the armful and fished it out of my pocket. It was Karen.

“Hey Karen, what’s up?”

She hesitated. “Well… it’s… could we come by your place? I’m still with Jack, and we’re both freaking out and I don’t even know if it’s safe to stay at my apartment and I’m pretty scared Alan really and could we just come by?”

I frowned and poked my head into the house, motioning for Mitzi to come over. “Of course, Karen. You can always come over. What’s wrong?”

Mitzi shot me a quizzical look. I shrugged.

Karen sighed. “Can we just explain when we get there? I’m driving and it’s snowy and dark and I don’t want to get into it.”

“Sure. Drive safely. We’ll see you in a few minutes.”

I hung up and turned to close the door. Mitzi raised an eyebrow. “That was Karen? What’s wrong?”

“I don’t even really know. She’s on her way here, with Jack Rodowsky. He’s apparently an old friend of hers? And of Nicky Pike’s, I guess. He came by the office as I was leaving, wants us to look into some stalker-ish emails and texts he’s been getting. She just said that she’s still with Jack, that they’re both freaked out, and that she didn’t know if her apartment was safe. When he came in this afternoon he didn’t want to go to the police, but if something happened that has them this spooked…”

“She said she didn’t feel safe at her apartment?”

“She said she didn’t know if it was safe. And she called me Alan.”

“She called you Alan? She never calls you Alan.”

“I know. That threw me off as much as anything. She really sounded scared.”

Her frown turned into a full-blown scowl. “God help anyone who hurts that woman. I will tear them apart and then sic Kristy on them.”

She was serious, but I still laughed. Kristy Thomas is Karen’s older sister, and I have to admit that having Kristy sicced on me is a pretty terrifying idea. “Hopefully that won’t be necessary.”

It only took a few minutes for Karen and Jack to arrive. They both pulled into our driveway, and Mitzi had Karen wrapped up in a hug almost before she got out of her car. I held the door, Mitzi guided them in, and eventually - after more hugging, after offers of cookies and hot tea were made and accepted, and after Mitzi made me start a fire - we settled in the living room.

“Okay. So what actually happened tonight?” I looked from Jack to Karen and back again.

He sighed. “I’m so sorry you guys are in this now - especially Karen. I had no idea this would happen.”

Karen glared at him. “This is obviously not your fault.” She turned to me. “After you left, I went over the paperwork with Jack. It’s in my purse, by the way. We talked for a while, then decided to go grab dinner and catch up.” She looked at Mitzi. “We graduated together, but we haven’t seen each other in years, so we were just talking about what’s been going on.”

Mitzi nodded. “And for the record, what HAS been going on? What do you do, Jack? Where do you live now? Why are you in Stoneybrook?”

“I’m finishing up a PhD in physics at MIT. I live in Cambridge, but my parents moved to Richmond a few years ago. I came down to Stoneybrook for the weekend - Nicky Pike’s getting married in a couple weeks, and we were good friends since we were kids, so I came for his bachelor party, and I’ve stayed with him for a few days. I’m planning on driving on down to Virginia tomorrow.”

“Okay. So the two of you went to dinner to catch up. Then what?”

Karen grimaced. “We ate at the Chinese place over by the office. It snowed so much while we were eating that Jack offered to follow me back to my apartment to make sure I made it okay. He walked me up to the building, we hugged goodbye, and he left. I headed up to my place, but before I got to the door of my apartment, I got a text message from an unknown number.” She pulled out her phone, swiped over to her texts, and handed it to me.

Mitzi leaned over my shoulder to look. The photos weren’t great quality and some had been taken through a window, but as I scrolled through we watched a record of their evening: Mitzi locking the office door, the two of them sitting at the restaurant, Jack hugging her outside her apartment building.

“How did they even know who she is? Or her number? Or anything?” Jack’s face morphed from scared to angry to confused and back again to angry.

“Did you get any text or emails like this tonight?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. I had no idea, until Karen called me. I’d barely even left the parking lot, so I turned around and went back, and then she suggested we come here.”

Mitzi turned to Karen. “Did you go into your apartment at all?”

“No. I freaked out when I saw those, so I ran back down to my car and locked myself in and then called Jack and then Mr. Gray.”

I took some comfort in the fact that I was back to being Mr. Gray. “Jack, when we talked earlier you didn’t want to go to the police. You and Karen can make your own decisions here, but my advice would be that it’s time to make a report on this. Have your other texts and emails been like this?”

“Not really. At first they were just emails - weird things like asking how my day was. Some of them were pretty out there. One talked about how they knew I am trapped in a time loop, living out multiple lives. It was super weird but not that scary, and I kind of assumed it was a friend trying to mess with me. The first time I got a picture was over the weekend; they sent a photo of me outside Nicky’s place. That was the first time it really scared me, because none of my friends from Cambridge are here, and all of the guys here were with me when that picture was taken - most of them are even in it. And then with these tonight, and with Karen getting dragged into it, yeah, I’m ready to get the police involved, I guess.”

“It does help narrow things down to know that someone had to actually be in Stoneybrook this weekend and then today to take those photos. And it’s telling that you never got any photos until you were back here - that suggests it might be someone local, or at least someone who isn’t in Cambridge. Let me call one of my friends on the force; hopefully they’ll be able to take your statement over the phone without you having to actually go to the PD in all this.”

By the time I contacted my friend (more like work associate, but whatever) and explained things to him, and then Jack explained things to him, and then Karen explained things to him, an hour passed. As I could hear Karen wrapping up her conversation with the officer, I left to go check the situation outside.

It wasn’t great.

The snow, which had been falling steadily all day, had really picked up after sundown. Even when Jack and Karen arrived, there were several inches; a lot more had fallen since then. I grimaced looking at the road and the drifts around their cars. I’ve lived in Connecticut all my life, and I can tell when snow is drivable and when snow is not drivable - the last hour had tipped this into a “not drivable” situation.

I clomped back inside, kicking the snow off my boots at the front door. Karen hung up just as I entered the living room.

“Everything go okay with Officer Daniels?”

Jack nodded. “He wants me to come down to the PD whenever I can, but for now he’s taken our statements and will file a report. He did suggest that you keep working on the case, too, though, especially since I may not be able to get there for a while.”

“Of course. Mitzi and I can work on tracking down any info we can get on the source of the texts and emails. Meanwhile, I have some kinda bad news…”

I was interrupted by Mitzi and Karen’s phones both buzzing with a text notification. They both checked and immediately both scowled. “What’s wrong?”

Mitzi looked up and gave me a sad smile. “Your parents’ flight just got cancelled.”

Karen groaned. “Yep. And my flight to Chicago just got scrapped, too. I was supposed to fly out tomorrow for Christmas with Mom and Seth.” She slumped in her chair. “Dang it. Dad and Elizabeth and Kristy and Sam and David-Michael and Emily are all in Germany for Christmas with Charlie.”

“Well, I’m afraid my news isn’t going to help much. I’m not surprised flights are cancelled - it’s bad out there. Y’all can go check yourselves, but I don’t think you should try to go anywhere tonight, and honestly I’m not sure you are gonna be able to get out tomorrow, either.” I looked at Mitzi, wishing we could do that mind-reading thing people do in romance novels.

Maybe it was a Christmas miracle, or maybe we’re just both decent people, but she chimed in immediately. “You should both just stay here. You can’t go anywhere tonight anyway. Karen, you should definitely plan on Christmas with us - please don’t try to spend Christmas alone without family. Jack, if you want to try to make it to Richmond, you can, but please know you are welcome here, too. We have two guest rooms, the fridge is stuffed with food we thought we would be cooking for Alan’s parents, and we would love the company. No pressure, but you are welcome as long as you want to stay.”

Karen smiled. “Thank you. I’d love that.”

I looked at Jack. “At least one bright side - sort of - is that if you’re here it will be easier for us to work on tracking your stalker.”

Jack grimaced. “Thanks. I’ll take you up at least for tonight; I didn’t enjoy the drive here and don’t even want to think about what it’s like out there now.”

Mitzi - and I am not making this up - literally rubbed her hands together. This woman. She loves a good plan, but she LOVES a good change of plan. She wasn’t like that when we were younger, but a lot of therapy and a few years of years of PI work helped her embrace that.

She’s the best.


	3. Chapter 3

*Marguerite*

I left Alan, Karen, and Jack to call their respective parents and went to make sure the guest rooms were ready. One was ready for my in-laws, but the other needed a little work before anyone stayed in it.

As I switched the sheets over to flannel (old-fashioned, but so warm and cozy in a snowstorm), I thought about Jack’s case. It was a little worrisome that things escalated in Stoneybrook. And I had meant what I said earlier - I would take any threat to Karen seriously, even personally.

That, even more than Christmas and the snowstorm, was why I was glad she was staying with us for a few days. I don’t like sharing this, but a few years ago, when we were starting out, things got dicey with one case. Everything turned out fine, but since then I’ve been licensed to carry a gun and we amped up our home security. Nothing you’d notice from the outside, but the windows and doors are alarmed, we have cameras covering the entire perimeter of the house and the property, and we had a safe room installed a couple years ago. Besides, we’re both trained fighters.

All that to say, if Karen had to be in Stoneybrook this week, I was glad she was here.

I finished changing the sheets, dug out a spare toothbrush to add to the basket of sample-size soaps and toothpaste (thank goodness for hotel trips and regular dental cleanings) and headed back into the living room.

Karen and Jack must have made a trip out to their cars; she was curled up in a chair with a knitting project (she always had her knitting bag near), and Jack and Alan were on the loveseat with what I assumed was Jack’s laptop. Alan looked up as I came in.

“Everything okay with your parents?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Mom cried. Dad joked about being able to golf on Christmas now. So you know, about what you’d expect. But we did set up a video call for Christmas Day to open gifts together. Did you get the rooms all set?”

“I think things should be ready to go!” I turned to Karen and Jack. “We can show you where you’ll be. I’ll find you some towels, as well - and you can borrow some clothes and things from us if you’d like.”

“Sure!” Karen stood and stretched, then picked up her knitting bag and her favorite frog-shaped purse. “And some fresh clothes would be great. I’m not sure I could sleep in these pants.”

“Jack, are you a video gamer at all?”

“I don’t know if I’d call myself a gamer, but I do enjoy video games now and then. Why?”

I smiled at Alan. “We’ll put you in the front bedroom, then. It’s where Alan keeps his older consoles and classic games.”

Jack turned to him. “Like your Xbox and stuff?”

I laughed. “No, the Xbox is in the basement, actually.”

We headed to the bedrooms as Alan explained that the older consoles I referred to were his old NES and Atari. “I’ve even got an old DOS computer in there for some older PC games. I’ve got an original version of Loom on floppy disk.”

“Man, I remember my brother Shea playing Loom when we were kids. That’s a blast from the past.”

I rolled my eyes as we stopped at the bedroom door. “Please, don’t get him started on the epic adventures of Bobbin Threadbare. Karen, you’ll be just down here. I’ll go get you some more comfortable clothes.”

I grabbed a couple t-shirts, a hoodie, some yoga pants, underwear, and fuzzy socks from my room. Thankfully, Karen and I are roughly the same size, and yoga pants are forgiving. I met Karen back in her room. “So, I know you prefer black, but I don’t have a ton of comfy black clothes, so I found what I could. Hopefully that will - Karen? What’s wrong?”

She had gone pale and shakily sat down on the edge of the bed. She held her phone out to me. “I got another text.”

I grabbed the phone. Sure enough, she had received another photo, this time of her getting out of her car. I was there, about to hug her; Jack was closing his car door; Alan was on the porch.

“This was taken at our house.” My eyes narrowed. “They must have followed you here and taken this as they drove by - it’s right when you arrived.”

She nodded. “There was another text - it just said ‘Let’s all come in.’”

“‘Let’s all come in?’ Does that mean something?”

Karen shrugged. “Who knows? Jack said the emails and texts he’s gotten were all random and weird. Maybe they just meant they know that we’re here? Maybe they meant they’re going to come in, too? When I was a kid my siblings and I played a game we called Let’s All Come In, but it was just a dumb thing where we acted like we were checking into a hotel. And who would even know that?” She was still pale.

“Okay. Here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to change into the closest thing I own to goth hygge. I’m going to go take this to Alan and we’ll start working on tracking things down. Meanwhile, the four of us are going to go down to our basement, I’m going to bring everyone hot chocolate and more cookies, and we’re going to watch that new Cam Geary Christmas movie and unwind. Nothing is going to happen tonight. This is one of the safest spots in Stoneybrook; Alan and I are both here; and we’re in the middle of a snowstorm, so no one could get here to do anything anyway. Okay?”

She nodded and gave me a weak smile. “You know, I won’t die if I wear non-black colors. You don’t have to tear apart your closet trying to find me clothes.”

I smiled. “I know. But I want you to be you, and honestly I’m not sure I could take the shock of you in hot pink right now.”


	4. Chapter 4

*Karen*

Marguerite was right - the hot chocolate and Cam Geary helped. If nothing else, I was distracted by his truly bad acting abilities and the multiple plot holes. But he got the girl in the end, which I guess is what matters in a Cam Geary Christmas movie, and it did help take my mind off the fact that I had apparently acquired a stalker in the past few hours.

Alan and Marguerite had spent the time working quietly - Alan with Jack’s laptop, Marguerite with hers and both our phones - but still chimed in with comments on the movie. I swear Alan got a little misty-eyed at the end.

Jack was pretty much silent the whole time, but he clearly enjoyed the hot chocolate and cookies.

It was weird seeing Jack again. We’ve known each other since we were kids, but hadn’t seen each other since high school graduation. He moved away for college and then grad school; I stayed in the area for college and then a series of unfulfilling jobs. We followed each other on social media, but he never posted much and most of my posts were of my Kenyan sand boa, Logan (follow him at @snakeinthesandgrass for adorable snakey content). (Thankfully, sand boas only eat every couple weeks and yesterday was feeding day; my neighbor Kate had already agreed to water him while I was in Chicago.)

Growing up, Jack was always the clutziest and unluckiest kid imaginable. My sister Kristy and her babysitter friends called him the Walking Disaster - which, in retrospect, was kind of awful of them, but it wasn’t inaccurate. It seemed like he couldn’t make it an hour without some sort of catastrophe.

That didn’t seem to be the case now. I’d been with him for six hours and he hadn’t knocked over anything, tripped and fallen down any stairs, hit his head on anything, or hit anyone else’s head WITH anything.

I mean, it had only taken three hours for him to share a stalker with me. So there was that kind of catastrophe, but it’s hard to make that his fault.

I stretched and tried to untangle myself from the stupidly soft blanket Marguerite had tossed me when I claimed my corner of the couch. “I think I’m going to head upstairs. Thank you again for the hot chocolate, Marguerite. It hit the spot.”

“Of course! I put some towels in the spare bathroom for both of you; there should be soap and stuff in your rooms.”

I smiled at her. “Thanks. I feel like I’m at a bed and breakfast.” I turned to Jack. “Are you a night or morning shower guy?”

“Morning. Is that okay?”

I nodded. “Perfect. I’m gonna go hop in the shower now. Good night, all.”

After my shower, I slipped into the fuzzy socks Marguerite had provided and picked up my knitting bag. Since I had been planning to fly to Chicago the next day, I’d visited the craft store earlier and - thankfully - all my new yarn was still in the bag. I did some quick calculations and figured I should have enough for a scarf, a hat, and a pair of mittens. The question was, would I be able to successfully knit Christmas presents under the noses of the recipients without them catching on?

Probably. Worth a shot, anyway, to be able to surprise them with presents. A scarf for Alan, I thought. The mittens for Marguerite, who always had cold hands. And a hat in the dark green alpaca wool I had picked up on a whim would look great with Jack’s red hair.

People always seem surprised when they find out I knit. It’s probably the piercings - the stereotype of a knitter doesn’t usually have multiple piercings in each ear, let alone the nose and tongue rings. But knitting is great for me. It’s both creative and repetitive, it gives me something to do with my hands, and it calms me down when I’m upset, or anxious, or mad.

Or scared at least partially out of my mind.

It’s not that I was necessarily afraid anyone was going to climb in the window and murder me. (At least, not THAT afraid.) But it was scary and very unsettling to know that some random person I didn’t know had watched me, taken pictures of me, knew my phone number…

I shivered and picked up my needles. 

A few rows into what would become Alan’s scarf, I heard muffled music from Jack’s room next door. Or - kind of music? Beeps?

About three minutes in, my mind finally clicked and I chuckled.

Those were the unmistakable sounds of a Mario game.

I debated briefly and then decided that if we were both awake and I was still spooked, I might as well be awake and spooked with another person. I pulled on Marguerite’s hoodie, gathered up my project, and tiptoed over to his door. It was cracked open, so I knocked lightly and poked my head in.

“Hey… would you mind some company?”

He was sitting on the floor with his back to the bed. He’d changed into some of Alan’s sweatpants and an old Stoneybrook boys basketball t-shirt. He looked much less like an MIT physics PhD candidate and much more like the gawky little kid I played softball with in elementary school.

“Sure.” He frowned. “Was I bothering you?”

“Not at all. I hadn’t gone to bed yet anyway. And to be honest, I’d kind of like some company. I’m still a little freaked out.”

He sighed. “I’m so sorry. This is all -”

“If you say one more time that this is your fault I’ll stab you with a knitting needle. None of this is your fault. You haven’t done anything wrong. Scoot over.”

He scooted and I sat down next to him. “Which Mario is this?”

“Super Mario Brothers 3. I wasn’t going to miss a chance to play my favorite Mario on an NES”

“Nerd.”

He gave me a mock scowl. “What’s nerdy about that?”

“It’s kind of nerdy to have a favorite Mario game.”

“That is totally not nerdy.”

“I’m sorry, did you just say ‘toadally’ not nerdy?”

He laughed. “Oh, that was bad. Besides, it’s a little rich for you to be calling me a nerd when you’re literally knitting here.”

“Knitting doesn’t make me a nerd, it makes me a little old lady. Get your stereotypes right.”

“Oh, sure. My apologies, grandma.” He winked at me. I rolled my eyes. He turned back to his game and I turned back to my proto-scarf.

A couple minutes later, I looked back up at him. “Can I ask you something?”

“How did you manage to spend an evening with me without me injuring myself or someone else?”

“Well, I wasn’t going to ask it in so many words, but sure. You were always pretty klutzy when we were kids, and even in high school.”

He smiled. “That’s an understatement. Didn’t your sister call me the Walking Disaster?”

“Well yeah, but that was a jerk move on her part. Kristy wasn’t known for being overly sensitive. Still isn’t, to be fair.”

“But I was for sure an accident-prone kid. But then I grew up, grew into my body. Took two semesters of ballroom dancing in college, actually, and that helped a lot. Even did some martial arts training, and that helped more. So now I can function as a normal human being without incident. Most days.”

“Huh. Ballroom dancing.”

“Yep. You should see me rhumba.”

“Hmm.” I looked over at him, because that sounded suspiciously flirty, but his attention was fully on the game.

“Okay, my turn for a question. When you got that text tonight, why did you call me and then Alan? Why not someone else?”

I shrugged. “Like who? I called you because you were in the picture and you were the one who had just come in asking for help tracking down a stalker. I called Alan because he knew about the case. And because I didn’t want to go into my apartment alone. You were there, you heard my call with him.” Jack had turned around as soon as I called him; I called Alan from the front seat of Jack’s car.

“Sure. It just seems like you would call your sister or your dad or a boyfriend or something.”

I raised an eyebrow at him as he deliberately kept his eyes on the screen. “The rest of my family is in Germany for Christmas and did you just backhand ask me if I have a boyfriend?”

The corner of his mouth twitched up slightly. “Of course not. I’m just trying to figure out your relationship with your bosses.”

“Uh-huh. Sure.” I laughed. “They’re amazing. I mean, growing up I heard Kristy complain about Cokie Mason non-stop. And I heard about Alan Gray’s crazy pranks for years. So when Kristy told me that they needed an assistant, I was a little worried because honestly they didn’t seem like the kind of people you’d want to work for, you know? A mean girl and a class clown. But it turns out that most people change after high school - and definitely after eighth grade - and now they’re awesome.” I paused. “And I’m not dating anyone.”

He smiled. “Weird that you would just throw that information out there, but okay. So Marguerite is Cokie Mason? The Cokie Mason that Kristy and all her friends straight-up HATED? But she’s so nice now.”

“Like I said. People change. You can walk in a straight line without hurting yourself, I no longer think my dad's neighbor cursed my cat, and Marguerite is a great person.”

“You don’t think Morbidda Destiny is a witch?”

“Oh no, she’s definitely a witch. But she didn’t curse BooBoo. My turn for a question.”

“No, I’m not dating anyone.”

I laughed. “That is NOT what I was going to ask, but good to know. You’re finishing up your PhD - what is your research area?”

“Particle physics. Specifically, quantum field theory in curved spacetime.”

“Oh. Sure. That. Interesting.” I paused. “This is one of those things that I’m just not going to understand without at least one degree in physics, isn’t it?”

He chuckled. “Depends on how much time you have. When was the last physics class you took?”

“Ummm… I’m pretty sure you were in it. Ms. Burdine’s physics class senior year.”

“In that case - yeah, I’d need a couple days.”

“Where are you in the process? Almost done?”

“One semester to go.”

“And then what?”

He shrugged. “I’m applying for professorships and a couple post-doc programs. I love research, but ideally I would teach. We’ll see.”

We fell into relative silence, with just the sounds of his game and my needles. After a few minutes, he said, “I really want another cookie.”

I laughed. “No kidding. They’re addictive. Want me to sneak out and get us some?”

He paused the game. “Uhh, yeah.”

“What kind?”

He thought. “Maybe a chocolate chip and one of the spice ones?”

I nodded. “I’ll bring a selection. Anything else while I’m out there?”

“You make it sound like you’re going on an expedition. And a drink would be great. Want some help?”

I pushed up off the floor and extended a hand to help him up. “Sure.”


	5. Chapter 5

*Karen*

Nothing happened that first night, except it kept snowing. And snowing. And snowing.

The next day was December 23. Before I left the room to go join the land of the awake, I sent a quick text explanation to the Brewer-Thomas group text. I’d talked with Mom, Seth, and Andrew last night, but with the time difference, I hadn’t told Dad’s side of the family yet.

I left out the messy bits about Jack and his stalker and the texts. It wasn’t like any of them could do anything about it anyway, and I wanted to put off Kristy’s interrogation and long-distance attempts at meddling as long as possible.

I sent the text and padded down the hall to the kitchen. 

“Good morning!” Marguerite was already up and peeling oranges. “Did you sleep okay?”

I nodded. “It took me a while to wind down, but yeah.” I glanced over at Jack, who was standing over a bowl in the sink. He looked up and gave me a quick smile and wink. “We may have raided the cookie stash at some point last night.”

Marguerite raised an eyebrow. “Yes; Jack said he got the munchies. He didn’t say you were an accomplice to the great cookie theft, though.”

“Guilty. Can I help with anything?”

“I think we’ve just about got breakfast ready. You can help Jack with that pomegranate if you’d like.”

That morning I learned that (1) pomegranates are needlessly difficult but worth the trouble, (2) Marguerite is a really good cook, and (3) she and Alan do NOT share my taste in books. They offered the run of their bookshelves, and all I have to say about that is thank goodness for knitting and the Stoneybrook Library’s downloadable options.

Just before lunch, Marguerite mentioned that she had a video call gift exchange with the Babysitters Club that afternoon. (The Babysitters Club, or BSC, is what my sister insists on calling her group of friends from middle school. They had a club for, like, one year where they pooled their babysitting resources, and now she won’t stop calling them that. Marguerite wasn’t part of it - from the sound of it, she was pretty much their nemesis - but after she did a PI job for Kristy a few months ago Kristy now calls her an honorable member.)

I grimaced. “So… I only told Kristy and the family that I’m here, not the specifics of why. I mean, I said the weather, but I haven’t said anything about… the rest of it.”

Marguerite nodded slowly. “I understand. You know we won’t share details of any of our cases with anyone, so I won’t be telling her. It’s up to you how much you want to share - but it is complicated because Jack is our client, so we do need to respect his privacy as well. And I’m not sure how much you can really share without bringing Jack into it.”

As if summoned, Jack popped into the kitchen just then. “Without bringing Jack into what?”

I shrugged. “We were just talking about Marguerite’s video call with Kristy and her friends this afternoon, and how much we can share about me being here without violating your privacy.”

“Oh. What friends?”

Marguerite counted on her fingers as she listed people off. “Kristy and Stacey McGill-Thomas from Germany, Dawn Schaefer from California, Mary Anne and Logan Bruno from Louisville, Shannon Kilbourne from New York, and then me, Jessi Ramsey, Mallory Pike, Abby Stevenson, and Claudia Kishi from Stoneybrook. We’re meeting at 2 p.m. to work around the time zone issues.”

Jack grinned. “What is this, a Babysitters Club meeting?”

I groaned. “Not you, too. The BSC hasn’t been a thing in twenty years.”

“Yeah, but it’s all of my old baby sitters! Can I join?”

Marguerite looked taken aback. “I mean, of course you can, but that would mean we’ll have to explain why you’re here.”

He waved a hand. “Oh, that’s fine. Mallory already knows anyway; she’s the one who told me to come see you guys. And besides, you all keep telling me this isn’t my fault, so I shouldn’t be worried about people knowing.”

Marguerite turned to me. “So are you okay with Kristy knowing?”

I sighed. “I guess so. At least she can’t do too much hovering from an ocean away. I hope.”

And so there we were, two hours later, gathered around a laptop waiting for the video call to connect. Alan perched on the arm of the couch, and I was sandwiched between Kristy and Jack - who, for the record, looked incredibly excited to see his old baby sitters. It was a little weird, but in a cute way.

“Order!”

It’s such a Kristy thing that literally the first thing we saw or heard on the call was her yelling for order. 

“Everybody calm down!” She waved her hands, and then paused mid-wave and squinted at her screen. “Oh my gosh. Is that Jackie Rodowsky?!?”

Jack grinned and waved. “Hey, guys.”

Mary Anne waved back. “It’s great to see you! But why are you at Cokie’s - I mean at Marguerite’s?”

I felt Marguerite flinch slightly. She hates being called Cokie. Jack covered for her though, saying, “I’ve been having some issues with an online stalker - emails, things like that. It picked up while I was in town for Nicky’s bachelor party over the weekend, so Mallory,” (Mal smiled and waved), “suggested I go talk with Alan and Marguerite. And then…” he faltered and looked at me.

I sighed and braced myself. “And then Jack and I went out to dinner to catch up. When he dropped me off at my apartment, I got a disturbing text from apparently his stalker. I called him, he came back, we came here to tell Alan and Marguerite, and then we got snowed in and all the flights are cancelled anyway so we’re staying here for Christmas.” I ended on a rush, thankful that the video call meant I didn’t have to actually look Kristy in the eye.

The call was silent for about a second. And then, to my surprise, Stacey was the first to speak. “You guys went out on a date?”

While I might have been happy to be across the ocean from Kristy at that moment, Stacey had the disadvantage of being in the same room with her - so Kristy hit her in the arm. “My sister tells us she’s being stalked and literally the only thing you have to say is to ask if she went out on a date with the Walking Disaster?”

“Well I was curious!”

“Well be curious about how she’s BEING STALKED.” Kristy glared at our sister-in-law.

Stacey huffed. “Obviously I care about that, too. But she’s safe at Alan and Marguerite’s now, right? And I’m sure they’re doing a great job of tracking down whoever it is and keeping everyone safe. And Karen seems very ready to not talk about being stalked. So I was deflecting.” Stacey only married my step-brother Sam eight years ago, but she’s been friends with Kristy since they were thirteen, so she’s gotten pretty good at calling Kristy on her overprotectiveness and control issues.

Alan cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah, we are working on tracking this person down. So far, they haven’t sent anything since last night. And Stacey is right; this is a very safe place even when the city isn’t shut down by a winter storm. So yeah, Karen and Jack should both be safe through Christmas.”

Kristy audibly huffed. “I’m glad you’re safe.” Her expression softened. “And I’m sorry you’re stuck in Stoneybrook for Christmas. I know you were looking forward to being in Chicago.”

I smiled at her. “Thanks. I’m drawing my sorrows in Marguerite’s cooking.”

There was a brief awkward silence, and then Claudia clapped her hands. “So are we doing prezzis or not?”

“Presents! Presents! Presents!” Mallory started a chant, which Jessi immediately joined, but then they both broke out laughing at the disastrous consequences of video lag on a group chant.

The group moved on to their Secret Santa exchange and I breathed a sigh of relief. That went better than I’d expected. Jack, feeling me sigh, nudged me with his shoulder and smiled at me. I smiled back and relaxed into the couch.

...and then I woke up.

I was disoriented at first, blinking at my unfamiliar surroundings. (Believe it or not, I don’t usually take naps on my bosses’ couch.

And then, much worse than realizing I’d fallen asleep in the middle of a video call, I realized that Jack was still sitting next to me.

He grinned at me. “Hey, sleepyhead.”

I groaned. “I can’t believe I fell asleep. How long have I been out?”

He shrugged. “Oh, an hour, maybe? Not that long. They just wrapped up the call a few minutes ago.”

I frowned. “Did I sleep on you?”

“A little.”

I glanced at his shoulder and my eyes widened at the small damp spot. “Oh my gosh did I DROOL on you?!?”

He laughed. “Maybe? It’s fine. You were clearly tired.”

“I can’t believe I did that.”

“What’s a little drool between childhood friends?”

“Yeah, well, we aren’t seven anymore so it’s rather embarrassing.” I stood up and stretched, then looked out the picture window. “Is it snowing again?”

He came and stood next to me. “Looks like it. This is a lot.”

“It’s like being trapped in a snow globe.”

“Can you imagine how big the hand that shakes this snow globe must be?”

“Enormous.”

Marguerite came into the living room. “Hey, you’re up! What’s enormous?”

Jack laughed. “We were just talking about how much it’s snowing out there.”

“Yeah, isn’t it crazy? It reminds me of the year I was in eighth grade. We had this crazy storm. People got stuck in cars, at work… it was rough. There was almost two feet of snow, I think. We aren’t quite there yet, but the radar shows that we’ll be getting more all afternoon and maybe overnight, so it’s looking like we’ll hit that and get close to breaking a record. I’m a little surprised we haven’t lost power yet, honestly.”

“Oh great,” Alan groaned from the doorway. “Now you’ve jinxed us.”


	6. Chapter 6

*Karen*

Marguerite’s jinx didn’t take effect for a few hours.

We hung out throughout the afternoon. I knit; Jack worked on his laptop; Alan and Marguerite were making some headway on tracking the emails to Jack. The snow stopped for about an hour, so we braved the outdoors for a quick walk that devolved into a snowball fight. I took a quick hot shower to warm up and had just changed into dry clothes when it went dark.

“Dang it!” I heard Marguerite’s yell from the kitchen. “I just needed five more minutes!”

I groped over to the bathroom counter and grabbed my glasses, then found the door. I opened it just as Jack raised a hand to knock on it.

“Oh! Sorry. I was just going to check and make sure you weren’t lost in there.”

“Thanks - thankfully the lights went out just as I was finishing up. Is Marguerite okay?”

“Yeah, she’s fine. She’s just mad that the power went out before she completely finished dinner.”

“I doubt we’ll starve.”

He chuckled. “Small chance of that.”

As it turned out, dinner wasn’t ruined. It was delicious. Alan built up the fire afterward, and we sat around it chatting until we were all yawning.

“Let me get you both some extra blankets,” Marguerite offered. She went down to the basement and came back up with her arms full of quilts. “If you’ll leave your doors open tonight, some of the heat from the fire should make it in there. If you get too cold, feel free to come sleep in the living room.”

“I’ll get the generator set up in the morning,” Alan said. “We’ll at least be able to keep things charged up and keep from freezing.”

“Thank you. I’m sure we’ll be fine.” I took the quilts from Marguerite and handed a couple off to Jack. “Sleep well.”

Jack trailed me down the hallway.

“Will you be able to fall asleep without Mario tonight?” I asked.

“One can only hope. Will YOU be able to sleep after your naptime this afternoon?”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

“Well, if you decide you need a shoulder to sleep on, let me know.”

I stuck my tongue out at him. (I know. Real mature.) 

“You know,” he paused at his door. “You never answered Stacey.”

“What?”

“You never answered Stacey when she asked if you went out on a date with me.” He lifted an eyebrow at me. “I was wondering the same thing.” He winked and went into the bedroom, leaving me in the hall.

Was Jack Rodowsky… flirting with me?

I decided I wasn’t going to figure that out standing in the hallway, so I went in to add the quilts to the bed. Marguerite had added a camping lantern to each of our bedrooms, so I had some light as I spread out the blankets and crawled into bed. I was tired, but not that sleepy, so I decided to knit for a few minutes to calm myself down before turning the lantern out. I’d finished Alan’s scarf that afternoon and was making good progress on Marguerite’s mittens.

After a few minutes, I put the knitting on the nightstand and leaned over to turn the lantern off. Snuggling down under the layers of blankets, I thought warm thoughts and willed myself to sleep.

Willpower wasn’t enough.

Two hours later, I was still awake. The house was silent, and the snow muffled any sounds from outside. It was quiet enough I could hear Jack’s even breathing from the room next door.

And then I heard something else - a scratching at the window.

A thing you should know about me is that I have an active imagination. When I was a kid, I imagined all sorts of things: That my next-door neighbor cursed my cat, that the ghost of my great-grandfather haunted my house. I made up stories when I was a toddler, and I could easily make myself - and my younger brother - believe them.

I’ve worked for years to overcome the negatives of an active imagination. I’ve trained myself to stay grounded in reality and not scare myself.

So when I heard a sound at the window, I told myself quite logically that it was nothing. And I had fully convinced myself of that until I felt the cold draft from the now-open window.

At which point I screamed like hell, grabbed my knitting needles, and stabbed the dark figure that stepped out from the curtains.

Things happened pretty fast after that. The person I had just stabbed in the arm screamed. I kept screaming. Jack came in yelling. Alan and Marguerite busted in, also yelling, and also both carrying guns. Alan tackled the person, Jack grabbed me and pulled me out of the room, Marguerite turned on the lantern, and then everyone got quiet very suddenly.

Jack was the first to speak. “Amanda?”

I turned to look at the person who was bleeding on the floor. “Oh my God. Amanda Delaney?!?”


	7. Chapter 7

*Karen*

Because of the snow, it took what seemed like forever for the police and ambulance to get there. Alan frisked Amanda and found a gun and a knife. Marguerite bandaged Amanda’s arm as well as she could, glaring at her silently the whole time. Alan stayed in the room with them, still holding his gun. He made me and Jack leave, though, saying we didn’t need to spend any more time around her than needed.

“How do you know Amanda?” I asked him as we sat by the fire. I had snagged the extra quilts from his bed, and we were each wrapped in one.

He shook his head. “We went out once about a year ago. We were a match on this online dating service, and I remembered her from when she was your neighbor, so I thought it was worth a chance. It wasn’t the worst date in the world, but things definitely didn’t go anywhere. I thought we felt the same way - I guess not.”

“That’s - wow.” I took a deep breath. “Just wow.” We sat in silence. “The ‘let’s all come in’ text makes more sense now, I guess. And I think her parents moved back to Stoneybrook a few years ago, so it makes sense that she would be here and be able to take pictures of you. But to come all the way here in the middle of the night in the middle of a snowstorm. Wow.”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

The police finally showed up. They spoke with me first, then with Jack, then with Alan and Marguerite. They arrested Amanda but sent her on the ambulance to have her arm taken care of. 

The officers advised us not to go anywhere (as if we could if we wanted to) for a few days.

“It’s a pretty clear case of breaking and entering. That, along with the weapons charge, should be enough to put her away. If we can link her to the messages you’ve been receiving, that will indicate premeditation. I won’t say it’s an open and shut case - few really are - but it’s pretty close to that.” He shook our hands. “You folks stay safe. We’ll be in touch.”

After they all left, we gathered around the fire again. Alan broke the silence.

“Karen, Jack, I’m so sorry. I’m so used to having the house alarmed, and I didn’t even think of that when we lost power. Karen, if you had been asleep…” He shuddered, and Marguerite hugged him.

“Hey.” I poked him with my foot. “We’re okay. I wasn’t asleep,” I turned to Jack and smirked at him, “thanks to my nice nap this afternoon. She didn’t hurt any of us. I mean, you owe me a knitting needle, because who knows when I’ll get mine back from evidence. So there’s that. But none of this is your fault. If you and Marguerite hadn’t been here, who knows what would have happened. If you hadn’t let use stay here, she might have broken into my apartment, or Nicky’s place to get at Jack, and who knows what would have happened. So don’t beat yourself up.”

Jack nodded. “You and Marguerite are the heroes here, not the bad guys. And I’m sorry that I brought her into your lives and Karen’s life. If I hadn’t -” He grunted as my elbow connected with his ribs. The blow was somewhat softened by multiple layers of blankets, but I put some power behind it.

“Everybody needs to stop taking blame. None of us did anything wrong. We are not the ones who broke into a house with a gun, or sent threats and creepy messages, or took one bad date to disturbing extremes. So stop it.”

Marguerite smiled at me. “Thanks, Karen. Speaking of heroes. I knew you were good with a knitting needle, but I didn’t know you were so dangerous with them.”

I laughed, but it came out a little shaky. “Neither did I.” I could feel the adrenaline draining from my body. “Is that offer to sleep in here still open? I’m not sure I can go back in there in the dark tonight.”

“Of course. Would you like me to stay here with you?”

I was about to answer when Jack spoke up. “If it’s okay with you guys, I’d like to stay in here, too. I’m still a little shaken up and to be honest, I don’t feel like sleeping alone back there. Karen, if you want the couch I’m happy to take the loveseat.”

I nodded. “Sure. Except that’s stupid; you’re taller than I am. I’ll take the loveseat and you can have the couch.”

Marguerite looked at both of us like she was trying to decide if we were really okay. “All right. But if you need anything, promise me you’ll come get us.”

We promised. Alan built up the fire and insisted on bringing in enough wood to keep it going for probably three days straight, just in case we needed more through the night. Marguerite brought in a plate of cookies so we wouldn’t have to walk ALL THE WAY to the kitchen if we got snackish. 

My bosses are great.

They eventually stopped hovering and went back to bed. I stood and stretched, then turned to Jack. “You’re in my spot.”

He stood so we could trade places. I curled up on the loveseat and tucked my blankets around me.

After a few moments of staring at the fire, he broke the silence. “I don’t want to take advantage, but do you need a hug? Because I definitely need a hug and I was thinking if you also need a hug maybe we could hug.”

I laughed. “I could definitely use a hug. But these blankets are awkward - could we amend to a light cuddle?”

“That would be great.”

I waddled over to the couch. “Scooch over.” He moved over and I settled into the corner of the couch next to him. “Come here. It’s your turn to sleep on me. But if you drool, all bets are off.”

I honestly hadn’t thought I’d be able to sleep at all that night. But sitting on the couch, wrapped in blankets, watching the fire with Jack, I was able to slowly relax. “This wasn’t exactly what I’d planned for Christmas, you know. I didn’t plan on being stalked or stabbing my childhood best friend. But at least now we know it was Amanda and we know she won’t be back at least for the holiday.”

I felt him nod. “I think I’ll feel relieved tomorrow. I think I’ll feel something tomorrow. Right now I’m kind of numb.”

“I know what you mean. I’m drained.”

His arm tightened around me. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

“Me too. And I’m glad you’re okay.” I groaned. “Crap. I’m going to have to explain this to Kristy.”


	8. Chapter 8

*Karen*

It was the second time in two days that I woke up on the same couch as Jack Rodowsky. At some point, I’d curled my legs up onto the couch, and his head was in my lap. I tried to keep my lower half still as I reached over to grab my phone off the end table. I checked the time and did some mental math. It was mid-afternoon in Germany.

I sighed. No time like the present.

I opened the Brewer-Thomas text group. Just an update: We had some excitement last night but everyone is fine. Jack’s stalker broke into the house through my window. Thank goodness for knitting; I stabbed her in the arm with a needle. She’ll be fine; she’s under arrest; everyone is safe now. But we haven’t had electricity for about 16 hours. Alan’s going to get the generator set up today.

I hit send and braced for replies.

It took five seconds for my phone to ring with a FaceTime call. I winced and wished for headphones but knew that I would be in way too much trouble if I didn’t answer.

I swiped to answer and preemptively lowered the volume. “Hey, guys.”

Kristy was holding the phone, but Dad, Elizabeth, and Stacey were huddled around her.

“Are you okay?” Dad jumped in first.

I smiled at him. “I’m fine. We’re all fine. Really.”

“So what the crap happened? This person broke into your room? I thought Cokie’s house was a fortress?” Kristy was agitated enough she didn’t even notice she called Marguerite Cokie. She was also agitated enough that Jack stirred and sat up. I moved the phone so he stayed out of frame as he blinked awake.

“The electricity went out. We didn’t think about the alarm being down. And Alan and Marguerite were both in my room, guns drawn, within seconds of me screaming. Alan had her down, disarmed, and subdued pretty much immediately.”

“DISARMED?” The whole family joined in for that one.

I sighed. “Yes. She had a gun and a knife. But she didn’t use them and we really are all fine. And now she’s arrested and in jail and we’re fine. Jack had to turn over his phone and computer as evidence so the police can link her to the texts and emails he’s been getting. I was only able to keep mine because I’d only gotten a few things. I could just forward them on - and I’m sworn on pain of death not to delete anything.”

They took a moment to absorb all that. Then Stacey spoke up. “So who was it? Why were they stalking Jack?”

“Well, the stalking part is kind of a long story. But - remember the Delaneys?” 

Eventually I was able to tell the whole story, convince them that I really was okay, and finally end the call. By that time, Jack had left to go shower and I could hear Marguerite in the kitchen. I fought my way out of the pile of quilts and went to join her.

“Good morning! Merry Christmas Eve!” She smiled at me as I entered. “You survived the call with your family?”

I nodded. “I’ll check in with Mom and Andrew later.”

“Good. So Alan is out setting up the generator. It won’t run the whole house, but we can at least keep things charged up and run a space heater. Jack’s in the shower. I’m trying to figure out meals without electricity. At least the stove is gas, but Christmas without an oven may be interesting.”

“We’ll figure something out. Is it still snowing?”

“No! It finally stopped about an hour ago. Alan measured - we’ve had 30 inches over the past two days.”

“Wow.”

She nodded as Alan and Jack both came in. “Ready for breakfast?”

It was a ridiculously cozy day. Alan kept the fire going and ran a space heater to supplement the heat. Marguerite kept plying us with cookies - not that Jack minded - and I knit like there was no tomorrow. (Thankfully I’d had a spare set of needles.) I finished adding a pom to the top of Jack’s hat just as Marguerite brought in hot cider for a bedtime treat.

“You guys have been the absolute best hosts,” I said, taking a mug from her and wrapping my cold hands around it.

“I second that,” Jack said.

Alan laughed. “Even though you got attacked and have been half-frozen for…” he checked his watch, “30 hours?”

“Even though. None of that was your fault, and you’ve made the best of everything.”

Jack nodded. “If I had to spend Christmas not with my family, this is a pretty great substitute. Which is weird, since I didn’t know either of you three days ago.”

“To new friends.” Marguerite lifted her mug as we toasted.

“New friends,” Jack echoed. He glanced at me. “And old friends.”

I smiled at him. “It must be almost midnight - is it Christmas yet?”

Alan checked his watch. “Almost! Just about a minute to go.” He counted down. “Five… four… three… two… one… Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas!” Just as we all chimed in, the Christmas tree lit up.

“It’s a Christmas miracle!” We sighed in unison as the heater clicked on.

“Okay, everyone. Bedtime. If you don’t go to sleep, Santa can’t come.” Alan waved us toward the guest rooms.

“Thanks again for everything, you two.” I hugged Marguerite. “See you in the morning.”

Jack walked with me to my door. “You know,” he said. “I’ve been thinking.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. On the one hand, dinner Tuesday wasn’t really a date. But on the other hand, you have slept with me twice now.”

I slapped his arm. “You’re making that sound much more romantic than the reality of me drooling on you.”

“Facts is facts. But what I’m wondering is where that leaves us on the question of whether a goodnight kiss is appropriate or not.”

“Hmm. And what have you decided?”

He grinned as he wrapped his arms around my waist. “I think I’m just going to hope for another Christmas miracle.”

I laughed as I leaned in. “Here’s to old friends.”


End file.
